


Matching Colors

by felypsa



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Uncanny Avengers
Genre: Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 14:57:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14059422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felypsa/pseuds/felypsa
Summary: Emily meets Pietro’s daughter Luna for the first time. It's not exactly how she expected it to go.





	Matching Colors

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back at it again with Uncanny Avengers AU fluff no one asked for, this time because Pietro deserves happiness from two of his best girls.

It’s a rare quiet day in the freshly rebuilt Avengers Mansion, and Emily’s taking advantage of it to do her own laundry. It’s neither a fun nor glamorous task — she takes over the kitchenette that’s nearest to her room, bent over a large basin in the sink while her costume soaks in warm, soapy water — but there’s something oddly soothing about going the extra mile to hand-wash the dirt and blood out. It’s a ritual that takes her back to her street vigilantism days, when she had nothing but her fingerless gloves and brand new telepathy headaches against whatever everyday crimes she stumbled across. 

She’s come far enough now to know that, as an Avenger, she’s made a difference. She might be the least experienced superhero on the team, but she knows she’s come through in big ways for her teammates. Still, she doesn’t want to lose track of her roots too much; she’s not above washing her own costume when she gets the chance. Sure, Jericho or Wanda can probably provide a spell to make the chore easier, but Emily’s been wary of magical shortcuts since the _Cyttorak incident._

She turns to squeegee dirty water out of her costume’s sleeve when a young, wry voice asks, “What are you doing _that_ for?”

“Huh?” Emily obviously isn’t tapped into her telepathy at the moment, or else she wouldn’t have been sneaked up on...by a pre-teen girl with an artful braided circlet of blonde hair. With a thud of her heart, Emily recognizes her from the pictures Pietro showed her not too long ago, when they sat curled up on the couch together, simply basking in one another’s company. She remembers how his smile was full of such _aching_ fondness and pride as he said, _“This is my little girl...Luna.”_

“Luna,” Emily says now, her eyes round in wonder. The wet sleeve of her costume drops back into the basin, momentarily forgotten. “What are you doing here? How did you get here? Does your father know...?”

The younger girl crosses her arms, looking bored and unimpressed. “Not _yet,_ obviously, or I’d be with him. I came here to find him, and Aunt Wanda said he might be with you, but you’re here alone and…elbow-deep in some gross-looking water…and, again, what are you doing that for?” 

Emily glances down at her soaked, soapy costume. “I’m just hand-washing it. It’s more effective to clean it that way.” This is surreal. She’s looked forward to the day she’d get to meet Luna ever since she learned of her existence, but she thought Pietro would be here to make the introduction...that they would be somewhere neutral, like getting dinner together in midtown...or maybe doing something fun, like going to an amusement park...and she couldn’t help but fantasize that it would go well enough for her to get a hug out of the girl by the end. 

Instead she’s in her day-off clothes, denim cutoff shorts and a kind of ratty red T-shirt, with her hands drenched in bloody water and not even appropriate for a handshake, let alone a hug. 

“Your father,” she says, shaking herself out of her wistfulness, “just popped out for a minute to get us some takeout. I was going to finish up and let this dry, then make him sit and watch _The Shining_ with me. It’s one of my favorites. You…could join us, if you want.” Her smile falters. “If — if he says it’s okay. I don’t know if he lets you watch horror movies.” 

Luna scoffs. “I’ve seen worse horror in real life. I can handle some crappy old special effects.”

Emily’s smile feels pained at the truth of that statement. “Right. That makes sense.”

Luna leans against the wall, rolling her eyes up to the ceiling. “Well. I guess I’ll wait here for him. You might as well finish that up, I can’t imagine he’ll be too long.”

Emily looks back down at her costume, and despite Luna’s attitude, she suddenly smiles to herself, reminded of how she used to act at that age. _Never let the adults know you’re uncomfortable._ Emily is respectful enough not to try to read the younger girl’s mind, but she expects she’d find that Luna is just as anxious and disappointed at how this is going. After all, she’s clearly planned this surprise visit for her father, and instead she gets...his new girlfriend. A stranger.

She goes back to scrubbing, but she doesn’t ignore Luna completely. “He’s going to be so excited to see you, you know.”

“Yeah, I _do_ know.” 

Of course she does. Emily pauses and glances back at her; Luna’s examining her nails. “I’m also excited to see you.”

Luna’s gaze flickers over to her. “No, you’re not.”

“I’m not?” 

“I can see your colors.” She motions vaguely to indicate an aura around Emily. “You’re mostly scared. Like, freaking out. It’s been that way since you saw me.”

Right. Luna sees other people’s emotions as colors. Emily reminds herself to proceed carefully. “I am a little scared,” she acknowledges with a small laugh, “but fear is a part of excitement. I want this to go well, Luna. I know how important you are to Pietro, so of course it would be ideal if we could get along.” 

Luna doesn’t answer, but she is still looking at her, listening.

“But we don’t have to right away,” Emily concedes. “I know I’m not...what you expected. And that it will take time — ” 

“What will take time?”

Emily’s heart jumps, as it’s wont to do, as Pietro runs in from the door behind her. She gets maybe half a second of his attention to herself, his smile bright, his eyes coy, before Luna comes into his view. And then, just like that, the bag with the takeout boxes is left next to Emily as Pietro crosses the room in a single blur; Luna’s whole demeanor transforms as she straightens up; and father and daughter are embracing tightly, Pietro uttering Luna’s name in disbelieving delight as she disappears into his arms.

Emily can’t help but bask in the emotions radiating off them both, and though a part of her feels like an impostor for being a witness, she can’t look away. It’s pure, undistilled joy that makes her heart feel full.

But she starts to feel like she’s outstaying her welcome when they pull apart and begin speaking, their exchange so fast that it’s almost like its own language. “Does your mother know — ” “Yes.” “And everything at home is — ” _“Fine.”_ “So you’re here to —” “Visit _you,_ Dad. I have one day.” “As in until nighttime, or as in twenty-four hours?” “Twenty-four hours.” “Good.” And they’re hugging again, like they are never going to let go.

Emily starts to sneak out of the kitchenette, not wanting to call attention to her departure, but she should know by now that Pietro is too observant and too fast for that. He appears in front of her, his smile wide enough to split his face in half, and Emily comes to a complete halt, unable to resist mirroring that smile. His happiness is contagious, and it’s not just because she feels it blossoming in her own mind from their telepathic connection.

“Emily,” he says, taking her by the hand and whirling her around, “this is my daughter, Luna.”

She presses her free hand against her own cheek (which reminds her that it’s still damp) and beams down at the young girl if this is the first time she’s seen her. “Luna. _Hi._ I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself properly. I’m Emily.” 

The look Luna’s giving her isn’t quite as petulant as it was before; if anything, it’s more curious, her head tilted to the side almost like a bird’s. But she says, “I _know_ who you are. Duh. We’ve been talking to each other this whole time.” 

“Luna…” Pietro says warningly, one eyebrow quirking up.

“It’s fine,” Emily says quickly with a smile. “She’s not wrong. We have been talking.” She turns so she’s facing Pietro, resting her hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t the two of you take the food and set up in your room? I’m just going to wrap up here, and I’ll join you in a minute.”

It’s amazing how much Pietro can convey with a single look, his eyes all soft concern that’s echoed by the thought he projects. _Is this okay, Emily?_

Her smile spreads, and her hand on his shoulder squeezes. _Just give us a chance, Pietro. We’re going to be wonderful._ She refuses to question her own confidence on the matter. She refuses to entertain any other outcome. She needs it, but more importantly, so does he.

He accepts her reassurance and leans down to seal it with a kiss. They keep it short for Luna’s sake, but Emily is all aglow as they pull apart anyway. As Pietro calls to Luna and grabs the bag with the takeout, she quickly moves to gather up her costume and squeegee out as much of the excess water as she can, before tossing it in the laundry basket at her feet. As she turns to take it to the dryer unit down the hall, she stops; Luna’s standing there, arms crossed, looking up at her.

“Luna?”

“Those colors,” Luna says. “I haven’t seen them around my dad in years.”

Emily’s not sure what to say, and she smiles hesitatingly. 

“And they’re the same colors around you right now,” Luna goes on, her eyes darting up and down the woman’s form, before resting on her face. She takes a deep breath. “It’s a perfect match.”

A budding flower of warmth opens up in Emily’s heart. “I would hope so, Luna. I’m glad you can see it.”

There’s still a bit of stubbornness in Luna’s set jaw. “Just don’t do anything to spoil the colors. I know where you live.”

Emily briefly recalls her one other meaningful encounter with Inhuman royalty, staring down Luna’s aunt Medusa while surrounded by a cloud of her deadly scarlet hair, and she knows in an instant that she’d rather piss off the queen and her whole guard again than disappoint this one young girl. “I promise.” Her smile softens, and she nods in the direction Pietro ran off. “Go on and catch up with your father. He’s waiting for you.”

Luna lets her arms fall to her sides, and she nods. She looks so much younger as she turns and runs down the hallway — just a little girl who loves spending time with her father. Emily stands and watches, the laundry basket perched on her hip, before smiling and going the opposite way, feeling light-footed enough to walk on air.

It’s going to be a great afternoon.


End file.
